


Sirius Black’s Highland Fling

by MarshmallowMcGonagall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ceilidh, F/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sirius Black Fest, Sirius in a kilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-04 01:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21189275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowMcGonagall/pseuds/MarshmallowMcGonagall
Summary: Sirius needs a date for a Muggle charity gala and sees a golden opportunity to spend time with Narcissa.





	Sirius Black’s Highland Fling

**Author's Note:**

> It goes without saying, but a massive thanks to the mods. They've been wonderful, not least for their support, and their patience with my many, many questions. My thanks to Dig, too, for introducing me to my wonderful beta for this fic: schweet_heart. They've been a gem and so gracious with their time and help.

Sirius licked the last of the ice cream from the spoon and savoured the cold buzz amidst the summer heat as he sat outside Fortescue’s with an empty bowl in front of him. He ran his tongue around the spoon and watched Narcissa walk down Diagon Alley. He put a couple of Galleons on the table, put the spoon back in the bowl, and licked his lips.

Harry had turned up at Grimmauld Place the night before and asked Sirius to go to a charity gala on his behalf. Ginny was too pregnant to cope with a night of anything but her pyjamas. On his way out, Harry had mentioned that the charity was a Muggle one, and Sirius would need a date. With that in mind, Sirius wove through the other shoppers in Diagon Alley and sidled up to Narcissa.

“Narcissa,” said Sirius. “You are looking especially beautiful this morning.”

“What do you want?” said Narcissa, the polite smile still on her face as she leaned in to kiss him on one cheek and then the other.

“I need a woman’s advice,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and steering her through the crowded street. Narcissa’s smile became decidedly more wicked.

“As to why none of them will go near you?” she asked, sweetly. Sirius clutched his chest, which tricked a laugh from Narcissa. He smirked. She arched an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I need to find some beautiful clothes for a beautiful woman,” he said. “And I thought you wouldn’t mind helping spend someone else’s Galleons.”

“Terrible clothing is a wound the world doesn’t need,” agreed Narcissa. “I suppose I could spare you a little time.” She stepped out of his embrace and slipped her arm through his. “Come, I know somewhere excellent.”

Twilfitt and Tattings held an astonishing number of clothes for the size of the shop front. “Mrs Malfoy,” said the shop assistant, then with badly muted surprise, “Mr Black, how lovely to see you.” The assistant wrung their hands. Sirius smiled. Clearly his reputation still proceeded him. “How can I help you both today?” 

Narcissa shot Sirius a questioning look, a smile playing on her lips.

“A dress for a charity gala,” said Sirius, “and it’s essential the lady can move easily for dancing.” 

“And the, uh, shape of the lady in question?” asked the assistant. Sirius turned to look Narcissa up and down with a measured gaze and his grin reined in.

“Narcissa’s figure is all but identical,” he said, slipping his arm around her. “You’ll try them on for me, won’t you?” 

Sirius sat outside the fitting room on a plush velvet sofa and watched the assistant take another armful of dresses through to Narcissa. He had lost count somewhere after the thirtieth dress. Narcissa had dutifully tried on each dress and twirled for him. He suspected she was asking for more expensive dresses, regardless of their flexibility for other activities. He saw a hint of supple gold spilling out from the bundle this time and twirled his wand in his fingers. He pointed his wand in the direction of the store room and a moment later there was a large crashing sound. It might have been a few years since Hogwarts, but he was still a good guess at how long a diversion would last. He thought he might get fifteen minutes out of this one. The assistant came running out of the fitting room and babbled apologies at Sirius as they ran through the shop. Sirius walked over to the fitting room and slipped inside.

“You should try the gold,” he said, grinning as Narcissa spun around, half dressed. She narrowed her eyes. Her arms were folded across her almost bare chest, and the current dress was slung around her hips.

“The gold?” she said.

“You need help getting out of this one first?” said Sirius.

“I find I do,” she said, her nose scrunching in frustration. Sirius stepped closer. Narcissa’s crossed arms were against his chest. He put his arms around her, keeping his eyes on hers as he reached for the fixings of the dress. One button after the other, then he pushed the dress over her hips and the fabric fell to the floor with a rush of petticoats tumbling over each other. Narcissa stepped back and out of the dress. Sirius picked it up and slung it over a chair. “The gold one, then.”

Sirius turned and saw the gold dress on a hanger. The last one of the bundle. The dress was simple in its extravagance, and not a dress to be stepped into. He took the dress off the hanger and held it out, ready to be slipped over Narcissa’s head.

“Close your eyes,” said Narcissa. Sirius did as he was bid and Narcissa moved closer, her body brushing against his as she moved beneath his raised arms. Eyes still closed, Sirius lowered the dress down her body. “You can open them now.” Sirius coughed. Narcissa smiled and turned to look in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. She stroked her hands over her hips and turned from side to side. Sirius scratched the back of his head.

“I like it,” he said. He bit his lip and swallowed.

“It’s the most expensive one here, you know,” she said. Sirius gave a dismissive wave. “Close your eyes again, please.” She stepped closer to him, took his hands and guided them to the edge of her dress. His fingers brushed her thighs. He lifted the dress up and over her, fingers trailing up her body, and he could feel her try to control the shiver down her spine. She took the dress from him. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.” 

“Take all the time you need,” said Sirius, slipping back out of the fitting room and catching a glance of Narcissa with her arms across her chest, no dress around her hips to hide her underwear. He sat back down on the plush velvet sofa and a moment before the shop assistant emerged from the back room. They mumbled apologies and knocked on the fitting room door before Narcissa invited them back in.

When Narcissa walked out of the changing room, wearing her usual elegant robes and a smug expression, Sirius sat up. 

“Happy?” he said.

“Very,” she said. “That dress is going to cost you an atrocious number of Galleons, and I think you ought to buy a second one for me.”

“Oh,” said the assistant, “I—I’m so sorry Mrs Malfoy, this—this is bespoke.” Narcissa’s expression froze for the briefest moment.

“I shall have to be content with making you buy expensive shoes,” said Narcissa. She watched the assistant take the dress to the counter with a look of longing. She bit her lip then sat down beside Sirius. “Very expensive shoes.”

The dutiful assistant ran off and brought back dozens of boxes of shoes. Sirius’s eyebrows shot up as the assistant detailed the cost of each pair.

“Now,” said Narcissa. “They’ll be charmed to fit whoever wears them, Sirius, darling, but it’s only right I try them to ensure they're pleasing once on the foot and not simply suitable for handsome window decoration.”

“I quite agree,” said Sirius. He slung his arm around Narcissa’s shoulder as they sat through another endless round of trying on things. While Narcissa and the assistant were deep in discussion about a particular pair, there was another mysterious crash from the back of the shop. The flustered assistant ran towards the sound of many boxes falling. Sirius slid off the sofa and onto the floor. He knelt in front of Narcissa, her feet bare, as he opened and shut a dozen boxes. Then he saw the pair. Gold like the dress. A heel, but a height he’d seen many a woman dance in comfortably.

“What do you think?” he said, holding out the pair. Narcissa bent forward, her face a few inches from his.

“They are very expensive,” she said. Sirius put down one of the shoes and with his free hand on the back of her leg, he guided her foot into the shoe he still held. The charm on the shoe meant that, with a wiggle of her toes, Narcissa had the perfect fit. Sirius guided her other foot into the other shoe. Hands still on the backs of her legs, he traced a little way up. Narcissa’s gaze flitted from the shoes to Sirius. His hands reached the edges of her thighs. “These will do.”

“Not up to your exacting standards?” said Sirius, reveling in the slightest quiver she gave when he ran his hands back down to her feet. She trod lightly on his hands. “So cruel.” She had a wicked glint in her eyes and lifted both her feet to rest on his thighs. With a gentle pressure, she pressed the heels into his muscles.

“Tell me, then,” she said. “Who are you going to waste these riches on?”

“You,” he said. Narcissa’s eyes widened and her smile faltered. She tried to speak but swallowed her words. He took the shoes off her and put them back in the box as the flustered assistant came out of the store room. Narcissa busied herself with putting on her boots while Sirius handed the box to the assistant. “We’ll take these.”

“Oh, of course,” said the assistant. “If you’re sure, of course, yes.” 

The assistant bustled off to wrap up Sirius’s purchases and organise for his Gringotts account to be charged. Narcissa shot glances at Sirius as he walked to the counter to make sure the right vault was charged. She hesitated by the door, arms crossed. Sirius came over with the intricately wrapped bundles and handed them to her.

“Grimmauld Place on Friday night by seven o'clock,” said Sirius, holding the door open for her. He followed her out into Diagon Alley and walked past her, away through the street which was all but empty now that the rush had passed.

“Are you not concerned about whether I have appropriate undergarments for this dress?” said Narcissa, holding her head up high and fixing him with a determined gaze when he turned to look at her. He walked backwards a few steps, his eyes on hers, his grin wicked.

“Make sure you charge my account,” he said, biting his grinning lips when he saw the edges of a smile on hers.

On Friday night, a few minutes before seven, Sirius heard a crack of Apparition come from the top step of the entrance to Grimmauld Place. He was standing in front of the large hallway mirror adjusting his bowtie when he turned to see Narcissa walk in. She wore a soft grey cloak, but he could see the hints of gold on her body and on her feet. She had her hair up and wore simple jewellery that he knew cost several times more than the dress and shoes she was wearing. He tried to ignore the flicker of annoyance that he had to share her with the gala.

“Sirius,” she said in surprise. “You—that’s a kilt.”

“Yes,” he said, doing a twirl. “Didn’t I say? The dance is a ceilidh.”

“I’m sorry?” she said. He watched her gaze lingering on his body. He knew the dress jacket and kilt were well tailored. The shirt fit and the bowtie was perfectly tied. His black brogues shone and the dress socks clung to his legs. He didn’t mind that his tattoos peeked out, either. Narcissa exhaled a long breath.

“The dance is a ceilidh,” Sirius repeated. “Remember Walburga used to insist we go to one each year to make sure our dancing repertoire was sufficient?”

“Yes,” said Narcissa. “Though my recollections involve more smuggled Firewhisky than dancing.” She walked towards Sirius and ran her fingers across the silver buttons on the front of his fitted jacket. “So we’re going to Scotland?”

“A country hotel on some ridiculous estate,” said Sirius, undoing the fixings on Narcissa’s cloak and slipping it off her shoulders. He slung the cloak over his arm, inhaling deeply as he took in her body. The dress clung to her like molten gold. She glowed. From his jacket, he whipped out a tartan sash which matched his kilt, as well as something else he kept concealed in his hand. He leant closer as he put the sash over Narcissa’s shoulder, closing his eyes when he felt her breath on his neck. His hands fell to her waist and he took the old Black family brooch from his hand and fixed the sash in place.

“I’d forgotten that piece,” said Narcissa, running her fingers over the brooch before looking up. She was inches from Sirius.

“It’s rather a beauty, don’t you think?” he said. Narcissa nodded as he slung her cloak back around her and did up the fixings. “Where is your wand?” 

Narcissa laughed and turned her head coyly.

“A lady never tells,” she said.

“I’ll Apparate us there?” said Sirius.

“I’d expect nothing less from a gentleman,” said Narcissa. He led her out to the top step of Grimmauld Place. He slipped his arm beneath her cloak and around her waist. He held his wand in his free hand, fingers flexing around the length of wood. Their gazes were fixed on each other. Her hands on his body, he turned, and they Apparated to a beautifully tended rose garden, the crack of Apparition cloaking Sirius's quiet moan.

The country house hotel dominated the landscape and the rose garden which Harry had told Sirius about was in a secluded spot to the west of the hotel. In the late summer evening, there was a touch of gold on the roses. Narcissa stepped away from Sirius and his hand swept across the small of her back making her shiver. He was beginning to love that little wiggle she did. He saw her hands move beneath the cloak.

“There was something else I should have mentioned,” said Sirius, as he offered Narcissa his arm.

“Oh?” 

“This is a Muggle establishment.” Narcissa whipped out her wand and held it beneath his chin, backing him up with slow steps. Another step and he risked getting uncomfortably intimate with the roses. “And a Muggle gala.”

Narcissa’s eyes had narrowed. Her raised arm had lifted her cloak, and he watched her chest rise and fall, covered only by the dress. She stepped closer, keeping her wand pressed against the tattoo beneath his chin. She leant in and, lips by his ear, hissed, “How dare you.”

“Easily,” he said, his voice husky. He took a deep breath, which was enough to nudge the wand further against his skin. His hands drifted up to her waist, and the wand stayed where it was. “You can enjoy a night with me and no one will know.” His hands moved with her as she rolled her shoulders. The dress was exquisite, but the fabric couldn’t be called substantial, and Sirius reveled in what he could feel beneath. 

“No one can know,” she said. He murmured his agreement. The wand dug in further. “No one.” He tugged her closer, forcing her to move her wand away from him. Her body pressing against his, he leaned his head closer and inhaled the scent which was all hers.

“No one will know,” he said. His hands slid down her body, and he could feel her trying to resist the shiver down her spine as she stepped back. He offered her his right arm and watched her slip her wand down the front of her dress before taking it. “No magic.” She cast a wandless Stinging Jinx at his groin. Sirius hissed, and his body went rigid as her gaze travelled up to meet his glare.

“No magic,” she agreed, with a smirk which made Sirius twitch without any Jinx required.

Sirius led Narcissa through the gardens. The closer they came to the entrance, the more guests they saw arriving, the women in elegant dresses and the men in kilts and dress jackets. Narcissa was the only one wearing a cloak, which earned her several curious and envious gazes. Sirius saw her posture grow more confident with each step. She was sizing up the competition. 

“Welcome!” said an older man whose face was as red as his kilt. He was flanked by a group of teenage boys dressed in kilts and jackets. “I’m Hamish, and I'm delighted to welcome you to our little shindig this evening!”

“Hello,” said Sirius, working to keep his smile polite. Narcissa murmured her own greeting. “I’m Sirius Black, here at the behest of my godson, Harry Potter.” Hamish’s expression lit up.

“Mr Black,” he said. “What a joy to meet you.” Hamish spread his arms in delight before putting his hands on his hips. “Harry will be missed tonight. How is Ginevra?” 

“She is glowing,” said Sirius, grinning. “May I introduce Narcissa.” Hamish sighed in awe of her as she gave a simpering smile. Sirius shot her a glance of disbelief, and she squeezed his arm. 

“Mrs Black,” said Hamish, “it’s likewise a joy to make your acquaintance.” Narcissa froze, but managed to keep the simper in place. Sirius placed his free hand over the one she had on his arm. Good. She was wearing that atrocious bauble on her ring finger.

“It’s years since my wife and I have had the pleasure of a ceilidh,” said Sirius. “She hasn’t been able to talk of anything else for weeks.” He looked at her and leant in to kiss her cheek, which she proffered at the last moment possible. “Have you, darling?”

“No,” she said, as he pulled back. “Though don’t let Sirius fool you.” She looked up at him in a way that others might consider adoration, but he knew was thinly veiled Black determination and menace. “He was insistent on shopping with me.”

“You’re a vision,” said Sirius. Hamish laughed, and Sirius and Narcissa both turned back to him, smiling. 

“This young man,” said Hamish, pulling a teenager from the group around him, “will show you where to check in Mrs Black’s cloak, and then he'll take you through to where the drinks are being served.” The teenager braved a smile at Sirius and Narcissa, and with slightly awkward movements gestured to them to follow him. With thanks given to Hamish, Sirius and Narcissa followed the teenager into the hotel.

“Reminds me of Hogwarts,” said Sirius, leaning closer to Narcissa.

“I recall it being bigger,” said Narcissa, quietly. Sirius coughed. He could see the alcove tucked away from the foyer where the coat check was.

“Sir, ma’am,” said the teenager. “Would the lady like to check in her cloak?” The teenager was turning a gentle red as he stood with his hands behind his back.

“The lady would,” said Sirius, releasing Narcissa’s arm to step in front of her and undo the fixing on her cloak. He smiled and revelled in how Narcissa’s gaze lingered on his mouth. He reached around her to sweep the cloak off her shoulders, then handed it to the teenager. A moment later, they had a numbered ticket which Sirius tucked inside his jacket, and the teenager was leading Sirius and Narcissa to the cocktail lounge where drinks were being served. The teenager left them at the door. Sirius had his hand on the small of Narcissa’s back, and she shot him a glance as they walked through the cocktail lounge to the bar. The room was comfortably full with people, drinks in hand, chatting in groups. Sirius guided Narcissa towards the bar.

“What can I get you?” said one of the barmen.

“Ogden’s,” said Sirius, before stopping himself. “You don’t have Ogden’s, do you?” Narcissa’s small peal of laughter reverberated through him and entranced the barman. He shook his head and leaned on the bar. “Your finest whisky then.”

“And the lady?” said the barman.

“Something more delicate for the lady; perhaps your finest champagne,” said Sirius, having to quell the wince that came with Narcissa’s heel pressing into his foot. “The lady will have what I’m having.” The barman laughed.

“Thank you, darling,” said Narcissa. “You do underestimate me so.”

“Never,” said Sirius, his hand on her back pulling her closer. Their glasses being pushed across the bar towards them brought their attention back to the barman. Under the darker lights of the room, the whisky was almost the deep gold of Narcissa’s dress.

“Enjoy,” said the barman with an amused frown, before going to serve another couple. Sirius took Narcissa’s hand and led her through the crowd. There were terraces with lounging sofas on the other side that he had in mind.

The warm summer air wrapped around them as they stood a few feet from circles of gossip and guffawing. Sirius sipped the whisky and stepped closer to Narcissa, who had brought her glass to her mouth. As the whisky touched her lips, he watched the golden glow of the summer evening on her skin. 

“Strong,” said Narcissa, with a sharp intake of breath. He tried to ignore her licking her lips.

“All the better,” said Sirius, “to enjoy slowly.” He let go of her hand and put it on her back again. His fingers moved gently across her in a way that looked to anyone else like a loving caress. 

“Lower,” said Narcissa, smirking at his grin when his fingers found the edge of her underwear through her dress. She reached beneath his jacket, and still smiling, cast another wandless Stinging Jinx. Sirius’s hiss sunk into a low laugh, and he shook his head. “You will have to try much harder if you think you even have a chance of finding out what I bought.”

“What my Galleons paid for,” he said.

“Subtlety never was one of your strengths,” she retorted. She leaned closer, and Sirius groaned as she pressed herself against him. As her lips passed his cheek, he caught the scent of whisky on her breath. “But everything I’m wearing is the colour of Galleons.”

“You are a cruel woman,” he said.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” a booming voice announced. Sirius thought it might be Hamish. “This way for dinner.” Narcissa stepped back, and Sirius held out his arm for her. The crowd streamed through to the ballroom where the dance floor was surrounded by dozens of round tables, each seating a large group, and a ceilidh band set up at one end of the room. Another teenager showed Sirius and Narcissa to their seats. Sirius held Narcissa’s chair for her before sitting down beside her, though not without trailing his hand across her shoulders. She looked to the man sitting beside her.

“Narcissa Black,” she said.

“Fergus McDonald,” said the man. “Pleasure to meet you.” Sirius leant across Narcissa, hand extended.

“Sirius Black,” he said. “I see you’ve met my wife.” Narcissa shot a quick glare at him as the men shook hands.

“Yes,” said Fergus, his smile growing as he took her in. “Is this your first gala?” He waved at a couple walking past the table before bringing his attention back to Narcissa. Sirius lowered his hand to Narcissa’s thigh.

“Yes,” said Sirius, “a first for both of us, isn’t it, darling?” She pressed her heel into his foot again, and Sirius swallowed his wince. 

“For this charity,” said Narcissa, with a charming smile which made Fergus take a deep breath, “but definitely not a first.” She turned to Sirius and slipped her hand beneath his arm to squeeze his thigh. Her fingers strayed far enough that he knew she had felt more than she expected through the thick kilt. Sirius watched her mouth open a fraction and brought his hand back to rest on hers. Narcissa coughed, and with a flutter of her eyelashes jumped into a conversation about the charity with an older woman, Heather, on Sirius’s other side. Sirius smiled at Fergus and watched Narcissa make small talk.

“How long have you been married?” said Heather. She was a rich widow who enjoyed attending charity galas in her spare time, Sirius had discovered. The small talk with Heather had been going so well. They had made it through the soup course discussing the aims of the charity, the decor of the room, the music. Sirius and Narcissa glanced at each other, then at the main course in front of them.

“Darling,” said Sirius, “I’m terrible at anniversaries, you’ll forgive me if I can’t remember.” Heather chuckled, and Narcissa’s smile tightened.

“A little over twenty years,” said Narcissa. Heather huffed and looked Narcissa up and down. The older woman pointed a finger laden with rings at Narcissa.

“How can that be?” said Heather. “You’d have to have been a teenager.” She looked at Sirius. “You’ve barely aged; what kind of witchcraft can you be employing?” Sirius and Narcissa both laughed, and when Sirius reached out to pat Narcissa’s leg, his hand moved a little further up her thigh beneath the tablecloth.

“Oh, it’s old magic,” he said. Narcissa reached up to ruffle Sirius’s hair and pinched his neck. He grabbed her thigh, and she gasped. “Isn’t it, darling?”

“Yes,” said Narcissa, stroking Sirius’s cheek. “Family trait.”

“But on whose side, my dear?” said Heather. “Your husband isn’t without being handsome, either.”

“Hush,” said Narcissa, laughing with the barest squeak as Sirius’s hand crept up another inch. “Your kindness will go to his head.” She turned to Sirius. “Darling, you haven’t told Heather how we’re here on Harry’s behalf.” Sirius was forced to turn far enough to speak to Heather that his hand trailed back down Narcissa’s thigh towards her knee.

Sirius and Narcissa had discovered that Harry was a fixture at these events, and Sirius found himself questioning whether it was really Ginny who was on his arm, charming everyone and behaving like a lady. The main course passed with discussion over Harry and Ginny being parents-to-be and promises to pass on everyone’s good wishes. When the tarts with sorbet were presented to them by the wait staff, Narcissa leaned closer to Sirius, who inclined his head towards her, forcing himself to look at the table and not down her dress.

“Tarts,” she murmured as his hand moved back to her. “Your favourite.” She intertwined her fingers with his. Her lips were by his ear. “No wonder you agreed to come.” Sirius bit his tongue and glanced at her. She kissed him on the cheek and turned to pick up her spoon. Sirius leaned closer.

“I was more tempted by the sorbet,” he said. “So refreshing to the palate, don’t you think?” Narcissa brought a spoonful of sorbet to her mouth. “Something different for your tongue.” He watched the spoon slip from between her lips and heard her swallow. He pulled away.

“You should try it,” said Narcissa, and she brought a spoonful of sorbet to his mouth. He let Narcissa feed him the sorbet. He licked his lips and the slightest tinge of pink graced Narcissa’s cheeks.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” came the booming voice again. “It’s time to dance!” The chatter in the room rose as chairs were pushed back and people found partners.

“Narcissa,” said Fergus. “May I request a dance?” Narcissa managed to quell her surprise and turned to Fergus.

“Of course,” she said, getting up from the table. “Forgive me, it’s been a while since I’ve done any country dancing.”

“Not at all,” said Fergus. “We’re all here for a good time.” Sirius raised his eyebrows but said nothing as Fergus led Narcissa away from him. 

“Heather,” he said. “Would you like to dance?” She grinned at him, and glanced at Narcissa and Fergus.

“I would be delighted, young man,” she said, with a gleam in her eye.

“Excellent,” said Sirius, with a mischievous smile. He rose from the table and led Heather to the dance floor. He ignored Narcissa, who was being led with a lack of grace across the floor by Fergus. 

Sirius made it through two reels before he dared look for Narcissa. Dancing in gold, the light bouncing off the Black brooch on her sash, her blonde hair still secured by a Sticking Charm, Sirius spotted her within moments. He returned his attention to Heather, and as the reel ended, they moved to find a group for Strip the Willow. He led Heather towards Narcissa and Fergus.

“I’ll take her off your hands now,” said Sirius, taking Narcissa’s hand and leading her to her place before standing opposite. “Heather, I think you’ll find Fergus charming.” 

“I think I shall,” said Heather, and she grasped Fergus’s arm, steering the forlorn man towards another group.

The ceilidh band started up. Sirius and Narcissa were the first up. They linked arms and turned to the rhythm of the music. The ballroom filled with the sound of fiddles and a richness of music which swirled around them as they turned, a magic all of its own. Narcissa let Sirius go as he twirled with someone else, before taking her again. Their gaze fixed on each other until they broke apart, over and over down the line and back again. Twirling before splitting to their opposing sides and cheering on the next couple. His gaze kept coming back to her. The blush that wasn’t leaving her cheeks as her heart rate rose. Sirius bit his lip when he saw the sheen of sweat on her face. The exquisite reminder of when glamour was abandoned for pleasure. Several more rounds. Their grasps tightening on each other more with each turn.

The dance ended, and they started applauding the band a moment after everyone else. As soon as the noise died down Sirius grabbed Narcissa’s hand and led her off the dance floor and out of the ballroom. Another dance was being called as the door closed behind them. The cocktail lounge was empty, however, and Sirius pushed Narcissa against the nearest wall. She dug her hands into his hair, and he stopped her moan with his mouth on hers. She deepened the kiss as he pressed himself against her.

“What,” said Narcissa, her lips brushing against his, “do you have under that kilt?” She felt his smile against her mouth. He kissed her and pulled away. He looked around, and grabbing her hand, strode across the room and pulled her behind the bar. She leant back and pulled him towards her. She reached down, but he knew the kilt would be too bulky in her hands. She glanced at him and lowered herself to the floor so she was kneeling in front of him. His eyes widened and he laughed, watching her stroke her hands up his legs. He stepped closer, feet either side of her knees, and she lifted his kilt over her head as Sirius grabbed the edge of the bar in front of him. He moaned as her tongue licked his cock, one inch at a time, her mouth taking more of him.

“Narcissa,” he said, her name falling from his lips as he looked down, watching her whole body move beneath his kilt and what he saw of her dress. She took her mouth from him slowly.

“If I’d known about this sooner—” said Narcissa, but she was cut off by a booming voice from across the bar. Sirius’s head snapped up. Narcissa froze.

“Sirius Black, isn’t it?” said Hamish. “Yes, Black!” There was more than a hint of whisky in his voice. “Where’s the wife?”

“Fresh air,” said Sirius. “She’s abandoned me.” He swallowed back a cough as Narcissa blew air across his cock then took him in her mouth again, only pausing briefly to kiss his cock first. She kept one hand around him, the other stroking around his base. Hamish walked across to the bar.

“Beautiful woman,” said Hamish. Narcissa moaned and Sirius made a louder sound of agreement to cover her pleasure. “How about a drink?” Sirius looked around him and found a bottle of whisky under the bar. Narcissa squeezed gently and Sirius shook his head.

“Here,” said Sirius, coughing. He leaned as far as he could over the bar and held the bottle out as far as he could. “You take that back through.” His position change caused Narcissa to take more of him into her mouth, and her tongue was unrepentant. Sirius swallowed. Hamish took the bottle. “And I’ll be back through there in a minute.” His knuckles were white where they gripped the bar. “Just need to clear my head first.” Narcissa pinched his thigh, and it was only by the mercy of Hamish’s interest in the bottle that he didn’t see Sirius’s eyes widen and his jaw drop.

“Good vintage,” said Hamish. “Good vintage.” He looked up at Sirius. “I wonder what your woman’s got up to.” Hamish turned and walked away, already undoing the bottle. 

“Oh, she’s always done what she wanted,” said Sirius. Hamish nodded absent-mindedly and left the cocktail lounge. When the latch slipped back into place, Sirius straightened up slowly and felt Narcissa release him. He stepped back, grabbed her hand and pulled her up as she licked her lips. He strode from behind the bar and led her out to the terraces. He let her hand go, pulling the drapes which spanned the room closed, then shut the doors behind them. The gardens glowed in the last of the summer sunset.

The lounging sofas were tucked along either side of the terrace and Narcissa was already perched on one. Sirius sat beside her and took her head in his hands, ignoring the gardens below them which someone could walk through at any moment. Their kiss was desperate, and he moved with her as she settled back on the sofa. He moaned at the taste of himself on her tongue. He kept his mouth on hers as he pushed the straps of her dress down with the sash. As the cheer of another dance ending filtered through to the terrace, Narcissa hesitated for a moment before she pulled the skirt up until it was bunched around her waist. She slipped her wand into Sirius’ dress socks beside his own. He knelt between her spread legs and saw what passed for underwear beneath her dress. Her grin was wicked.

“Worth every Galleon,” he said. 

He eased the cups of her bra over her breasts, and she ran her fingers through his black curls as his tongue explored her nipples. He grinned against her when she gasped as he pushed aside the gold lace and slipped two fingers inside her. The ceilidh band started to play again and the music swelled around them. He explored her other nipple with his free hand and soon she was writhing beneath him. Licking, kissing, nipping. She brought his mouth back to hers, her moans increasing as his fingers sought to undo her.

“Sirius Black,” she said. “You are being a tease.” 

She reached down and took his fingers from inside her, bringing them to her mouth. She kept her gaze on him as she started to lick, tasting herself on him. He groaned and withdrew his fingers from her mouth to kiss her. Then he pulled his kilt up and guided himself into her. Her moan pierced the summer night, and his mouth didn’t stray from hers as she moved her legs and he moved deeper inside her. His steady thrusts became harder and harder. He reached down between them and found her clit. She moaned his name with less coherence and when she was undone, she brought his mouth back to hers and tightened her legs around him. He came soon after, her name on his lips, his release at her beckoning. He kissed her and her legs relaxed around him. His lips moved down her neck to her shoulder.

There was a burst of echoing laughter and talk from behind the doors. Sirius and Narcissa froze for a moment before Sirius pulled away and, with a stifled laugh of disbelief, he helped Narcissa make sure she was presentable again. He pulled her up off the sofa and into his arms. She leaned against him and he sought her mouth again. His lips were on hers when the sound of gala attendees increased. Sirius nodded towards the door and opened it. The curtains were still closed, and he led a giggling Narcissa behind the curtains and around the room. 

They emerged into a crowd who were too many whiskies into the night to notice Sirius’s mussed hair and Narcissa’s pink cheeks. Sirius led Narcissa out into the foyer, and they walked with eager anticipation to the coat check, fingers tightly intertwined and bodies as close as they could manage. Narcissa kept shooting Sirius glances, while he tried not to take her there on the floor in front of everyone. He took the ticket out of his jacket and Narcissa’s cloak was retrieved by wide-eyed staff, who wondered how the pair could look so giddy and still be put together—it was like magic. And surely, surely if Mr and Mrs Black had found a quiet place, how on earth was her hair still in a neat updo? Sirius slung the cloak around Narcissa and they all but ran from the hotel to the rose garden.

They stopped amongst the roses, dusk almost over, and Sirius watched Narcissa panting.

“You’re going to need help getting that sash and brooch off,” he said, reaching down to retrieve his wand but leaving hers against him. He tugged her hips towards him, and she moaned. He caught her pleasure with his lips and she held onto the lapels of his jacket.

“It would be the height of rudeness not to return them to Grimmauld Place,” she said.

“No one would know,” he said.

“Apparate me, Sirius,” she said, as his grip on her tightened.


End file.
